


Home

by Spideronsilk



Category: No Fandom
Genre: ? - Freeform, A story about you, Horror, Suspense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:38:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spideronsilk/pseuds/Spideronsilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why don't you wanna go home?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> so
> 
> I posted this on Tumblr but I really like this piece so I'm posting it on here cause I know that SOME of you actually like my original stuff, and for that I thank you. I know I haven't posted anything in a LONG time but I've just been a sucky human being lately. But hey, here's this! Now, I'm very proud of this. Idk, sometimes you just really love something that you do, you know? So I'm hoping you guys enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> Lots of Love,
> 
> a dumb little Spider

The full moon’s out. It’s nice and bright, the wispy wind billows around you. Cool, autumn air fills your nose, fresh and earthy, calm and mellow. Your eyes flicker to the right, a flutter of wings draws your attention.  A bat glides over the streetlights, his little chirps echoing aloud in the lunar light. You smile to yourself, watching the fluttering creature wander by. You thrust your hands into your jacket, feeling the cool metal of your keys and the grainy feeling of sand from the last time you went to the beach. How long has it been? Two? Three years? It’s been too long. You let out a long, pent up sigh. Tossing your head back and up at the starless sky, your eyes watching the haunting moon hypnotically. You blink, shaking your head as you kick a nearby rock, it’s rhythmic  _ping_  skipping down the assault. You begin to follow the abused rock, your footsteps light and soundless, a silent warrior in the empty night. You don’t want to go home. There’s a nagging in the back of your mind that tells you going home is a bad idea. Your tiny rock friend leads you to a deserted park. The empty grass field feels ten degrees cooler as you sit down. Your fingers mindlessly pull at the soft vegetation. You stare down at your worn shoes, lifting an eyebrow as you notice the dark smudges that sprinkle the top. You frown and bend forward, running your index finger over the dark liquid. Then begin rubbing it between your fingers. You recognize it. A red alarm flashes in your mind that has you bringing the drying blood to your lips, your tongue flicking out to lap up the sweet liquid.  It makes your mouth tingle while also sending a ping of sadness though you. You finish off the blood. It’s time to go home.

You stand in front of your red door, fishing your cold keys out of your sandy pocket. For some reason your hands are shaking. People have told you that red doors are a good omen, yet you’ve always believe the opposite.  
Inside the atmosphere is warm and cozy, the familiar interior leaving you with a small smile as you climb the stairs. Your shoes squeaking on the wooden steps. When you reach the landing you freeze, the air is stale and cold, nothing like the coziness of down below. You creep towards the closest door; the door you know belongs to your brother. The cold atmosphere scares you but you keep going, your pace slow, stomach churning.  Why didn’t you want to come home?  The door doesn’t creak as you push it open. It’s silent. Dead silent. The soundless echo which moments before was so inviting. You don’t notice the body at first. Or the blood.  You notice the sun peaking over the horizon through the open window. You don’t hear the voices yelling. You don’t hear them till you're face  down on the ground and they’re handcuffing your hands behind your back. You can’t help but wonder why you came home.


End file.
